mycroft the matchmaker
by elspethpoppy
Summary: mycroft and john have been texting. plotting ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock says to stay away from the food, especially cake. -JW

Which one? -MH

God knows. He's got a malicious look in his eye though. And told me to stock up on laxatives for his experiments. You were warned. -JW

Will this have something to do with the fact my toast tasted odd this morning? If so I'm blaming you. -MH

Hey, don't blame me! Blame your sociopathic brother! -JW

You should deter him from doing such things. -MH

Like that'd work. -JW

I'm sure you have your.. Ways. -MH

I really hope your not suggesting what I think you are.. -JW

What if I am? It certainly doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure you two out. Your so painfully obvious. -MH

Look, how many times have I got to say it? We're not a couple. And even if I was gay, which I'm not, Sherlock's married to his work. He told me so himself when he thought I was .. um, trying to chat him up. -JW

Alright then. But that does prove me point a little. If one of the most perceptive men in the world thinks your trying to chat him up, maybe you are. Could you please just do something with him? The sexual tension is killing me. -MH

I'd just met the guy - I was trying to find out about him! I wasn't chatting him up! - I am not... What? No! I'm NOT gay! I'm not going to make a fool of myself and WHAT sexual tension?! -JW

The obvious one. I believe the popular term is, duh! -MH

I am not sexually frustrated over your brother. -JW

If you insist. He's certainly frustrated over you. Just saying. -MH

... He is? What? Since when? Sherlock Holmes... Can get frustrated? What is this, a parallel world? -JW

No. We may seem like we hate each other but he does come to me for advice from time to time. Especially in things he's not so experienced in. -MH

Are you seriously saying that Sherlock Holmes has gone to you for... Sexual advice? ... About me? -JW

I'm not saying anything. But he's not exactly going to go to mummy is he? He's too proud to go anywhere else and I was quite the ladies man in my day. -MH

That's a disgusting mental image. He could talk to me. That's surely the logical thing to do! -JW

Not really. You seem to have forgotten who we are talking about. Too proud, remember? -Mh

I can't just sit around and ignore it though! -JW

You don't have to. I'm mealy pointing things out. -MH

Maybe I should talk to him about it. -JW

Maybe. -MH

Hmmmn. I'm not sure. -JW

Would I lie to you about something as delicate as my brothers feelings? -MH

Depends what's in it for you. -JW

Come on John, you offend me. I am only concerned about my brother. -MH

You don't need to be concerned. He's got me to 'look after' him. -JW

Maybe he wants you to 'look after' him in other ways. I just want him to be happy. You know that. -MH

And you think being in a relationship with me would make that happen? I don't think he'd care. -JW

You don't give yourself enough credit. -MH

Xxx

Mycroft smiled in uncontained glee as the door slammed to his office and Sherlock stormed in, flustered secretary in tow.

"you can't go in there mister Holmes. You haven't made an appointme-"

"MYCROFT!" Sherlock bellowed, pointing at him.

Mycroft shuffled some sheets on his desk and looked at his brother, "please Sherlock, there's no need to point, I'm the only one here. It's quite alright Nina I haven't got anything too pressing on at the moment." he smiled at the woman who nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. Sherlock dropped his arm and sat down.

"have a seat Sherlock," the elder Holmes said sarcastically, noting the fact the younger didn't wait to be invited. "now I'm sure we can have a calm conversation. We are grown ups after all."

"I'm not so sure about some of us." Sherlock glared, sinking into the armchair he plunked himself in.

"sit up straight Sherlock." it was a knee jerk reaction to his brothers slouching, something he'd done since he was young - but it still sent a smug feeling flashing across his brain when he saw Sherlock comply despite himself.

"now," Mycroft said, putting down the the paper, "what seems to be the problem?"

"you know exactly what the problem is." sherlock spat, "you and John have been texting."

"you make it sound so sordid put like that. He's not exclusively yours brother dear, he's allowed to talk to other people. Maybe even people you don't necessarily get on with. But then, if he only talked to those you liked he'd end up just talking to himself." Mycroft chuckled at his own joke.

"shut up." Sherlock snapped, "you never text, you like the sound of your own voice too much."

He shook off the comment and leaned over to his younger brother, "John texted me. I was responding in kind. It's social etiquette Sherlock, I don't expect you to understand."

"you've been putting ideas in his head."

"to the point aren't you Sherlock. And no I haven't."

"Really?" Sherlock's face was contorted with rage as he stood up, "you've been telling him we've been talking! We never talk!"

Mycroft looked up at him. He probably would be scared if it didn't so much remind him of the three-year-old version, who'd have tantrums on the landing when he couldn't wear his pirate costume to dinner and had to be dragged, kicking and screaming back to the nursery. He really didn't blame mummy or the nannies for that, he never took it off and it had started to smell. "it's more what you haven't been saying."

Sherlock scoffed at him.

"at lunch with Mummy to be exact."

"what's that supposed to mean?" Sherlock sat back down.

"they way you talk about him to her. Mummy keeps asking me why you won't let her meet him. She's worried you think she'll scare your boyfriend off."

"HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" Sherlock leapt out if his seat.

"don't shoot the messenger." Mycroft put up his hands, "I'm only telling you what Mummy told me."

"oh, in the same way you told John what I'd only told you?" he glared.

"call her if you like."

"fine!"

"fine."

And Sherlock stormed out the room.

Xxx

Fifteen minutes later Sherlock returned looking rather dejected.

"well?" Mycroft asked, smug look on his face.

"wipe that smile off your face before I punch it off. I'm surprised I didn't find you lurking with your ear against the door."

"no need, everything's bugged." he smiled sickeningly as the other man sat down in his chair across the desk. "what did she say?" Sherlock gave him a look, "I couldn't hear what she said, Sherlock! I'm not that good."

"can't you infer from what I said?"

"yes, but I want to hear you say it."

Sherlock deflated, "she's ecstatic I have a boyfriend... Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

"you were thinking it."

"I don't see why you didn't just put her straight."

"she sounded so happy."

"you accepted an invite to tea. With John. As your boyfriend."

"shut up."

"I think this is a good thing."

Sherlock glared again, "how so?"

"because you actually have feelings for the man and now you have to admit them. Win win I think."

"fine!"

"fine." and Sherlock stormed out again. Curse Mycroft for being so perceptive. And curse him for getting Mummy involved. There was no choice now. He'd have to talk to John. This was going to be awkward.

**well? what do you think? i got the insperation for this whilst having a text conversation with a friend, hence the texts at the beggining. im not sure whether to leave this as a one shot or carry on. depends what you lovely lot think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Right chaps, this was supposed to be a one shot but I've had so many reviews telling me to carry on that I just had to. I'm going to be honest, I love sherlolly, so johnlock has been rather hard to write. Expect an appearance from her in the next chapter. I strive to make her happy, poor girl, though maybe not with Sherlock this time... This note is becoming longer than the chapter, so I'll leave you alone to enjoy.**

John stared blankly at Sherlock. He opened his mouth, shut it. Opened it again. Shut it again. _Clearly confused_, Sherlock deduced from the movement and the way John sort of spun round on the spot.

"I'm confused." he admitted at last. Sherlock rolled his eyes, _obvious. _

"So, your telling me, after a very long conversation this morning that you had no feelings for me and Mycroft was feeding me lies, you've gone to him, then called your mother for an as of yet unspecified reason, and that we are now going to tea with her at the Holmes family seat as a couple?"

Sherlock looked unfazed, "That's what I just said."

"Why though Sherlock? You said you didn't have feelings for me." John looked lost.

"I don't John." Sherlock began to fiddle with his violin bow in his armchair.

"So this is one of your stupid games with Mycroft then? I can't believe you Sherlock! You never take anyone's feelings into account!" John was just about to storm out the room.

"John wait!" Sherlock said, standing up. "Apparently the way I talk about you to Mummy has her believing that we are a couple." John shot him a look. "Let me finish John before you judge. The thing is Mycroft and I haven't really been into, you know, other people and it made her so happy to think that I have someone to 'look after me'" he punctuated it with air quotes, reminding John of the texts he and Mycroft had sent to each other earlier that day.

"I do look after you don't I?" John looked at his friend. Sherlock nodded, putting on his best pout. God he was a pest, Sherlock knew that John was putty in his hands with that pout. But he just looked so damn adorable, looking up through his lashes like a small boy.

John sighed, "I suppose it's only one time.." He didn't have time to finish as Sherlock skipped over the sitting room and hugged him hard.

"You won't regret this John. Oh, Mummy will be so happy!" and with that he left, slamming the door behind him.

_Well, _thought John as he flopped down in his chair, _if he wants a couple he's damn sure gonna get one. _He was going to be so sickeningly lovey dovey Sherlock would never ask him do do this again.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock waltzed into the morgue like a man in love, which, he supposed, he was in a round about way. Molly jumped as the door slammed and turned around to see who it was. Sherlock beamed at her, "Molly!" he cried, enveloping her in a hug, "How are you?"

"Um, well, I'm very well thank you Sherlock." He still had her clasped against him and her arms snaked round to hold him back. This was the best day of her life, Sherlock Holmes was holding her and not letting go. He smelt amazing. The fabric of the shirt he wore soft against her cheek. She was being intoxicated by him. She knew any minute he would let go but she would always have this moment.

Sherlock gave her one last squeeze and let go. Molly stumbled back "You, uh, seem very happy today Sherlock. Any particular reason?" she fiddled with her hair. _please be me, please be me_.

"John agreed to my plan." he grinned at her.

"Your plan?" Molly's eyebrows went up.

"Yes my plan. To be my boyfriend." Her heart fell. Her best day in one foul swoop had become her worst. Her heart felt like it had been ripped out. The man she was in love with was gay! With his flat mate! She only wondered what the two of them got up to. How he said John's name and not hers in the dead of night. She turned around so that he couldn't see her tears.

"Molly are you alright? You seem to of gone quiet." Bollocks, why was he so perceptive?

"I'm fine." She said, still not looking at him.

"Your not though. Have I said something? I'd hate you to be upset because of something I said. I like to count you as a friend. Or at least a close acquaintance. I don't enjoy seeing you upset. Really I don't. John says I have a habit of hurting your feelings."

Molly choked. Bloody John. Bloody do-gooding lovely John. God she could see why he chose him over her. "Your right Sherlock. I'm not fine. But I'm never fine with you about am I?" And with that she turned back round to him, so he could see the tears in her eyes, see what he had done to her with his cruel words.

Sherlock's eyes went wide. "Molly I-"

"Just leave Sherlock" and she turned back round to do her work.

And Sherlock turned and left, thoroughly confused.

**Sherlock does seem a little OOC here but deep down I think he does care about her. He just has a stupid way of showing it.**


	4. Chapter 4

It is here we go back to Mycroft, who at this moment in time is walking through the doors his younger brother had just vacated. He looked around to find Molly on the other side of the morgue, head down and clearly sobbing. Mycroft rushed over to her, the flowers in his hand forgotten. "Dr. Hooper, what ever is the matter?"

Molly looked up, "Hello Mycroft." she sniffed. They had come to know each other quite well since the incident with the woman. It stared off with Mycroft asking what his brother was up to at Barts. He was only going to come the once and then have the place bugged but he found he rather enjoyed the pathologists company. He rarely enjoyed the company of others and found their stupidity trying. But Molly was different, she was clever and actually quite perceptive in her own way. Mostly of peoples feelings, something the Holmes brothers were not blessed in. No, he enjoyed her company. So much so that he came to visit at least once a week, and when your the British government that is quite a lot.

Molly sniffed again. "Sherlock?" Mycroft enquired putting his arm round her in an awkward hug. He was never particularly good at physical contact, though better than perhaps Sherlock.

"How did you guess?" she smiled up at him, her big brown eyes puffy from crying.

"Past experience." he smiled sadly. It tortured him that Molly couldn't see what he had to offer, but rather opted to the younger, less steady model of Holmes. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was fond of the pathologist, and thought that maybe he could make her happy. But she was blinded by Sherlock. And besides, at 41 he was almost ten years older than her. The only thing they had in common was, in his opinion, what was keeping them apart.

"Your so good Mycroft." She sighed, burying her face in her chest. "So good to me."

_Oh Dr. Hooper, _he thought_ I would give the stars if you only asked. _This was when he remembered the flowers. "Um, I got you a little something." he said, brandishing them,"They seemed your colour."

"Oh Mycroft! They're beautiful! How did you know?" The smile lit up her face as she took them from him and went to find some water. _Well old chap, _he thought_, now or never. _

"Dr. - Molly." She turned around from the sink inquisitively. "I have greatly enjoyed you company these past few months and I wondered if, um, you would like to continue our meetings outside the morgue." he waited with baited breath.

Molly stopped what she was doing and considered what he said. "What, you mean, like, coffee?"

"Yes that is exactly what I mean, coffee. Would you like to join me for coffee?" Mycroft mentally scolded himself at the tone of his voice and rushed delivery.

"I'd like that." said Molly. "Actually I'd like that quite a lot."

Xxx

As Mycroft beamed at the acceptance of his offer something was watching in the shadows. The something felt an evil smile creep across his face as he plotted his revenge. That something was Sherlock Holmes.

**I'm not sure what to think about this. Thoughts? I'll get onto Mummy Holmes eventually I promise, but right now I'm having far too much fun. A lot of you said you liked the texting of the first chapter, so I'll put more of that in. Maybe between the brothers, who knows? **


	5. Chapter 5

**Another load for you my darlings. Your reviews honestly make me so happy. Thought I'd look more into Mycroft and Molly for this chapter. So here you are.**

At the end of her shift Molly left the hospital to find a sleek black car waiting outside. She was looking at it puzzled when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She rummaged around in them to find a text.

Coffee? MH

Molly smiled down at her phone. Mycroft was a good friend - though she had no idea what his life was composed of now she came to think of it - and always put her first it seemed. When speaking with _him, (_she still wasn't happy even thinking john's name) she had heard that Mycroft was rather important in the government. Or was it the SS? Maybe MI6? She really needed to find out more about this man, they were dating after all.

Wait, what?

She hadn't thought of it like that before, but she supposed it made sense. And on a subconscious level she must of known. She had said _coffee_ after all. She'd been trying to get Sherlock to have coffee with her for years, and well, that was what she meant wasn't it? _Coffee_? She wasn't sure. One thing she was sure of though was that if this was _coffee_, Mycroft sure was keen. It had only been a few hours since they'd spoken and already he had arranged a car for her. Talk about fancy! But maybe that was what happened when you were a high ranking person in, ur, some public service.

She quickly typed in the message:

Do I get in the car in front of me? MH

Yes. MH.

_Honestly_, she thought, _I could be standing anywhere_. _How does he know that we're talking about the same car?_

Because I do. MH

Molly blanked. What. The actual hell. How did he do that? Was she going for coffee with an omniscient presence?

Don't panic Molly, I have the CCTV cameras trained on you. MH

Molly stared at the text for a second and then around her.

Sorry, that made me sound like I'm a stalker. I'm not. I mealy have them trained on you just in case. MH

She supposed that was sweet in a kind of.. Weird way. She looked round again. Then at the car. Well, it wasn't like hundreds of men were clawing at her door and spending time with Mycroft had always been pleasant. As she stepped towards the car she thought she might have to reassess exactly how important this potential boyfriend was.

Xxx

The car made it's way in the London traffic to the west end. _Hmmn, _Molly thought, _wonder where I'm being taken. _

The car eventually stopped outside the Woolsey, and a door man opened the car car door for her. "Good afternoon Dr. Hooper, I hope you had a pleasant day."

Molly looked dumbfounded. "Um, yes thank you, um.."

"Jones ma'am"

Molly blushed at the formal tone and let him lead her inside. Jones was quickly replaced by a butler (aptly named Jeeves) who whisked her off to a private dinning room on an upper floor. It was intimate, she supposed, enough to seat ten at the most. In the centre was a table laid out for two with dainty cakes and tea in ornate stands and pots and tea cups. The sort of design that Molly would love to have in her flat, but that looked so perfect that it was probably well out of her price range.

Jeeves pulled out a chair for her and gestured for her to sit down.

"Mister Holmes will be here shortly ma'am." He said. "In the meantime he has said to start without him. Tea madam?"

Molly blinked at the array of tea pots she had just noticed on a trolley pushed neatly up against the wall close to the table.

"Or would you prefer coffee?" the butler smiled warmly down at her, obviously seeing her unease with the choice on offer.

"Yes." Molly replied a little too enthusiastically, and then blushed. Jeeves smiled again and poured out a lovely smelling liquid from one of the larger pots.

"Mister Holmes' favourite, from the highest plantations in Columbia. I trust that is to your liking?"

"I didn't realise there was a difference." Molly said looking down, "I mean, I can tell the difference between real and instant but after that it just tastes the same." She blushed again at her lack of taste. Jeeves gave a knowing smile, "Just try it, then you'll know."

He seemed to know exactly how she liked her coffee. Half a sugar and enough milk so it was the colour of belgian chocolate. He placed the tea cup in front of her on the saucer with the grace of a professional. She bought the coffee to her lips and sipped. Oh, this was heaven. A moan escaped her lips just as Mycroft walked into the room. It sent a shiver down his spine to hear it. Jeeves chuckled and pulled out a chair for him to sit. Molly was still so wrapped up in the coffee she hadn't noticed him.

"Oh!" she said with a start, the beverage jumping in it's cup, "I didn't see you come in."

"Quite alright. Do you like it?" he asked, gesturing to her cup.

"you know how to pick coffee Mycroft." she said with a smile. "but then, you know how to do everything."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that." Mycroft said, waving off the compliment.

"Well, you certainly know how to treat a lady. You know when I said coffee I meant Starbucks right?"

Mycroft blushed, "well, um, I"

Molly cut him off laughing. Mycroft thought it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

"I've never seen you stutter!" she giggled, "besides," she sipped her coffee conspiratorially, "I could get useful this."

"I hope you do." Mycroft leant over to take her hand in his. "I really hope you do."


	6. Chapter 6

**It's been a while since we focused on the boys. I don't think we've seen John since chapter 2.**

Sherlock grinned down at his phone as he sent off the text.

Require your assistance immediately. SH

Molly always dropped everything for him, it was something he had come to expect of her. No doubt Mycroft had taken her out somewhere. He knew his brother well, when he wanted something, he quickly put into motion what was needed to be done to get it. Molly would be no exception. Sherlock was only sorry he wouldn't be there to see his brother's face. He seemed quite fond of Molly, and Sherlock was going to make sure he knew which Holmes came first. Molly wouldn't even know she'd be crushing him. So John wouldn't be able to get angry about hurting Molly's feelings, she'd just be being her usual self.

_Mind you, _he thought, _it would be a shame not seeing Johns nose crinkle in that adorable way when he gets irked. _Sherlock day dreamed. _CONCENTRATE HOLMES, _he thought as he mentally shook himself, _that is not a healthy way to think of your friend. _

Though, was John just a friend? After all they were going to Mummy's under the pretence that they were, in fact, a couple, and not just friends who lived together and everyone _thought _were gay.

Were they a couple? Impossible!

No.

Improbable but not impossible. Sherlock had just mentally scolded himself for having inappropriate thoughts about his flat mate. Come to think of it, he'd had quite a few of these thoughts with worryingly increasing frequency. They had been innocent enough, just thoughts about his nose and his eyes and observances about his hair. How soft it was. The colour in different lights. How it bounced when John walked. Sherlock had decided that he'd like to run his fingers through it a long time ago. All innocent right?

But his mind had always stopped him thinking further. Had always caught himself before he fell off the cliff of observation into the gaping casam of fantasy. But what if he let himself? What if he turned off his mental safety net and jumped? The thought made him shiver, though not all badly.

Sherlock was bought back to the real world when the man in question walked through the door with shopping.

"what are you doing?" John asked, raising an eyebrow and moving into the kitchen.

"Nothing, just waiting for a text." Sherlock leaned back and relaxed into his chair.

"Well Mycroft seems to think that you've done something. Apparently he visited Molly this morning and found her sobbing into her lab coat. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Sherlock frowned in fake confusion. "No I wouldn't. Did you ask Mycroft if it had anything to do with the fact he was visiting her?"

"Don't be rude Sherlock." John said, gesturing with the milk at him, "I just don't want to see Molly getting in between your ridiculous ongoing fight with your brother. I mean it Sherlock!" he said when he saw the other mans expression. "I won't have Molly used because you two cant behave like grownups when it comes to the other." John walked out the room to his bedroom. Sherlock wondered if John would count this little game as using Molly?


	7. Chapter 7

Molly had had a fabulous time with Mycroft. He was so attentive, and listened to her as if he actually cared, and not the way most men pretended to when really they were just trying to look down her small cleavage. It dawned on Molly that all the guys she dated before were boys, Mycroft was a man. He was so knowledgeable about everything, but wasn't arrogant about it. That surprised her, considering who he was related to. Compared to Mycroft Sherlock was a childish prick. Compared to most people Sherlock was a childish prick actually.

"Molly? Are you there?" Mycroft smiled at her in a joking way.

"Oh! Yes. Just, thinking." she replied flustered.

"About what?"

_How different the two of you are. _She thought.

"You mean me and Sherlock." it was a resigned acknowledgement of fact, not a question. Mycroft was hurt by her comment, and it was obvious by the look on her face that she didn't mean to say it out loud. _Oh well_ he thought, _it was a long shot._

"Molly, I know your in love with my brother-" he started but Molly cut in.

"That's not what I meant." she flushed again and looked down. "what I meant was that Sherlock is just a child compared to you. That I have a tendency to go for that kind of guy. I don't know why. Maybe I think I can change them. Maybe I'm just a glut for self punishment."

Mycroft reached across the table and took her chin delicately in his hand, making her look up. "I don't think your a glut. I think you don't think you should be treated properly. Because you have body hangups. You think your weird. But your not. You are stunning. And intelligent. And deserve everything and more." Tears streamed down her face, and Mycroft took out his handkerchief and dried them.

The moment was ruined be Molly's phone bleeping. It was Sherlock's tone. She couldn't help herself. She looked down to see what he wanted and Mycroft pulled away.

Require your assistance immediately. SH

She sighed and closed the message, checking the time out of habit. It was almost nine. Her shift had finished at two.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed.

"What?" asked Mycroft, suddenly worried and attentive.

"We've been here for nearly seven hours! I had no idea."

Mycroft looked down at his left wrist, "Neither did I." He checked his phone. Over one hundred missed calls. And two hundred texts. It was only supposed to be an hour or so. He couldn't spare the rest of the time off work.

"Molly, um." he said looking up.

"hadn't booked this much time off?" she smiled.

"Not even a little bit."

"Go. The country may fall without you." she joked.

"Molly I have told you. I hold -"

"a minor position in the government. Yeah I know. I'm not sure I believe you though."

"Clever girl." he joked and kissed her on the cheek in farewell. Molly blushed again.

"Um, Mycroft?"

"Yes?" he said turning back to her on his way out.

"I think it would be best if we didn't let Sherlock know about," she gestured around, "this."

His face fell. "Oh. Why not?"

"You know him. He'll try everything in his power to annoy us and make sure 'this' doesn't carry on."

Mycroft sighed. "He will won't he?"

Molly walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Yes. But for now, this can be our secret."

"I like the sound of that."

"Good. I have to go as well."

"Sherlock?"

"How did you guess?"

His face fell again.

"Don't worry. I think we can have a little fun with this."

"How so?"

"In case you haven't noticed Sherlock has been a bit of an arse. Time he got what was coming to him I think."

Mycroft chuckled and looked down at her. To hell. The world could wait five minutes. "What exactly did you have in mind Dr. Hooper?"

**Oh dear, what are they plotting? I don't actually know myself if I'm honest. Love to know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock waited a full fifteen minutes for Molly to text back. His grin could rival Moriarty's. They were defiantly doing... Something. He didn't really want to think about it. The exchange of bodily fluids repelled him slightly. Unless of course... He looked up the stairs to John's room. He must be reading, or having a nap, his laptop was down here.

He was getting distracted. He looked down at Molly's text.

On my way. MH

It occurred to him that Molly and Mycroft had the same initials. How positively sickening. And a little confusing. He would have to get her to change her phone signature. Just another thing he could do to ensure that Mycroft knew who was her favourite.

"Why are you grinning like that? It's unnerving." John stood there with an empty mug of tea in his hand and a wary look on his face.

"Nothing!" Sherlock was instantly defensive.

"Right sure. Well you better stop annoying Molly. Let her have a nice life Sherlock please. If her and Mycroft want to have some fun then let them! Unless of course you want to..."

"What no! I don't want to have 'fun' with Molly. Unless your idea of fun is solving cases." Sherlock straightened in his seat and looked down his nose at John.

"Fine. So your, what, competing for her attention with Mycroft? My therapist would have a field day with you she really would."

"Shut up John. I am not _competing _for her attention. Don't be stupid."

"You just want to make sure they Mycroft doesn't play with your toys?" John smirked.

Sherlock scoffed, "Molly's is not a toy. She is a person. People can't be toys, that doesn't make sense."

"Of course it doesn't. Stop treating her like you own her. Let her be happy."

Sherlock sulked into his chair when something dawned on him.

"Wait! How do you know Mycroft is courting Molly?"

John turned round from the sink where he was cleaning his mug, "Because Molly and I talk. That's why. We're friends."

"But how do you know that I know?"

John smiled at his friend. "Because you would wouldn't you?"

Sherlock grinned back. "Do they know I know?"

"No." John's grin got bigger.

"So I can be really annoying and split up their dates and they would have no idea?"

"No. But that that doesn't mean you can. I'm all for annoying Mycroft, especially after what he's got the two of us doing on Saturday, but I draw the line at Molly. Be nice to her."

Sherlock groaned, "Do I have to?"

"Yes." John put his hands on his hips. Sherlock thought he looked adorable.

"Fine. But I'm making Mycroft's life hell."

"I'd expect nothing less."

Sherlock gave John a sideways glance. "Would mentioning his blossoming relationship with Molly to Mummy be overstepping the line?"

"It may embarrass Molly but as long as she isn't present.. And I would love to see Mycroft's face. No, I don't have a problem with that."

"Good." said Sherlock and went back to grinning in his chair.

xxx

Sherlock? Where are you? MH

Sherlock's phone reminded him he had a prior arrangement and he sprang from his seat and dashed out the room. Leaving John a little bemused.

**Dear oh dear. What I web I am starting to weave. I fear I may get tangled in the threads..**

**Oh well, Im having fun. Thoughts?**


	9. Chapter 9

Molly was sat in the morgue looking at her watch. How unlike Sherlock to not be here already. He could of gotten distracted and gone off on a tangent she supposed. Though somehow that didn't seem likely.

_There he is_ she thought as he ran up to her looking a little flustered.

"Where have you been?" she asked. He looked like he had run from Baker Street.

"Sorry." he said, "Got side-tracked. Didn't leave you waiting too long did I?" he smiled at her in a way she knew was flirtatious, to get what he wanted. It still sent butterflies to her stomach and a blush to her face but oddly enough it just reminded her of how Mycroft had spoken to her, only he was genuine.

"No Sherlock, what do you need?"

Sherlock went blank for a second. He was so busy trying to ruin his brothers relationship that he hadn't thought of an actual reason to be here.

He recovered quickly. "I need some fingers."

"Fingers?" Molly looked like she didn't believe him.

"Yes fingers. Preferably of different people. But the same finger from the same hand. I'm doing an experiment on.. Muscles." Sherlock rose to his full height to look imposing.

"Muscles?" Molly shook her head.

"Yes. I'm doing an experiment on the muscles of different people in their index fingers. How they've developed due to their lifestyle." Sherlock felt quite proud of himself. Not bad for making it up on the spot.

Molly's face lit up. "Really? I did my PhD on that. To investigate how modern lifestyles affect the development of people, specifically their fingers. You can tell so much from a persons fingers you know. Well, of course you do." Molly blushed again. "I can give you my thesis of you like."

Sherlock had no idea she had chosen such a good subject. He suddenly felt guilty for what he was doing to her and Mycroft. Well, maybe not Mycroft.

"Yes. Yes I'd like that. No doubt it's incredibly detailed." Molly knew full well that for Sherlock to say that was the highest accolade he could give anyone. She could tell that this time his smile was genuine.

"Oh good. I'll send that to you."

Molly smiled and went about with a spring in her step to get Sherlock what he wanted. He was a little confused. Maybe he had made her happy? It seemed an odd thing to be happy about, sending him her thesis. Maybe she was happy that he took an interest in her area of expertise. It impressed him that Molly had done her thesis on that, he never knew. She must of got some strange looks from her tutors when she said she wanted to do it. So few people see how important fingers were. He looked forward to reading it, her papers were always good.

Damn, now he felt worst about the whole thing. Well, for Molly. He would never feel bad about Mycroft.

Molly handed him ten fingers and asked if he needed anything else.

"No." he declared, "Bag them up and I'll be on my way. Don't want to keep you from your evening."

"I don't have anything on." Molly shrugged, "It's never too much trouble."

_Of course it isn't. _Sherlock grinned, _not for me anyway. _

Molly bagged everything up and Sherlock left, feeling a little guilty but incredibly smug. His plan was coming through.


	10. Chapter 10

**A few of you siad you liked the texting in the first chapter, so here's some more you lovely people. though this time between the patholigist and the government.**

Well? MH

He wanted fingers. MH

Fingers? MH

Yes, fingers. MH

Do I want to know why? MH

Probably not. MH

We have the same initials. MH

You just noticed? MH

Doctor Hooper are you questioning my brilliance? MH

Someone has to. Keep you in check. How about I sign it like this. MHx

I like that. MH

Good. MHx

I enjoyed today. MH

So did I. MHx

Would you like to do it again? MH

I would. MHx

Tomorrow? MH

Your keen! Can you get the time off? MHx

I'm sure I could spare half an hour or so. MH

Your flowers match my colour scheme. MHx

Do they now? MH

Do I sense a smirk in that text Holmes? MHx

Maybe a small one. MH

I'm surprised the british government has time to pick out flowers for little old me. MHx

You'd be amazed what happens when you flash my card. I pass the florist on the way to the morgue. I saw you look at the flowers once. MH

On CCTV? MHx

Maybe. MH

You are funny Mycroft. If a little disturbing... MHx

I wasn't trying to be. MH

So where are you going to whisk me off to tomorrow? MHx

I'll think of something worthy of you. MH

Charmer. MHx


	11. Chapter 11

John was utterly bemused. He had spent the day watching the events unfold between his friends. It felt like his life was a farce. He had just sat down with a nice cup of tea and a book when Sherlock waltzed in, nearly hitting him in the face with a box from the morgue with something rolling around in it.

"Sherlock!"

"What?" Sherlock looked round, acknowledging his flat mate.

"I just got comfy! I thought you'd be out for a while, way you rushed out."

"Oh I was just getting some fingers from Molly. She's so helpful."

"Right." _so _he thought, _let's go over this. Molly and Mycroft have spent the day on a date; Mycroft has told his mother that Sherlock and I are a couple and that we are now going to see her in two days _as_ a couple because Sherlock didn't want to disappoint her; in the meantime Sherlock is desperately trying to assassinate Mycroft's love life while in the meantime trying not to hurt Molly. Which apparently has something to do with fingers... Oh, and Molly and Mycroft think that Sherlock doesn't know about them when he does. Although I'm sure Mycroft knows, he knows bloody everything. And from the conversation I've had with Molly the two of them are planning something to get back at Sherlock. Frankly fully deserved, the man's a prick. _It dawned on John that he was probably the only one who knew everything that was going on. Defiantly a farce.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?" Sherlock looked up from the table where had lined up the fingers on a tray, hair scraped back by his goggles that were acting as a hair band. John laughed.

"what?"

"Nothing Sherlock. What should I wear to your mothers?"

"What should you wear?"

"Yes, what should I wear?"

Sherlock stood up properly and faced him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, surprisingly enough, despite the fact that I have been taken home to parents a few times, it's never been by my flat mate who happens to be a sociopathic mummy's boy."

"I am not a mummy's boy! And I presumed that as the more experienced in this subject that you'd be fine with picking out an outfit."

John pointed his mug at him. "One, yes you are a mummy's boy - we wouldn't be doing this if you weren't - and Two, I don't know what your mother likes and I always ask my girlfriends what to wear and how to behave when I meet their parents."

"Just be your adorable self." Sherlock said offhandedly, leaning back over his fingers.

John stilled and gave him a sideways glance.

"That's what my girlfriends always said."

Sherlock froze. _Shit shit shit shit. _He looked out of the corner of his eye at John _Say something you idiot! _

"Yes, your adorable self." He pretended to carry on with his experiment, "You're the 'boy next door' so I have been told. Apparently perfect for taking home to mother. She'll love you. Just be yourself."

"And tell her we're not a couple?"

Sherlock spun round, "No! Defiantly not, you'll upset her so much. Please John I'm begging you don't tell her!"

John looked like a startled rabbit. "Right. You need to explain this thing. You've never cared what people think before."

"I've always disappointed Mummy. Always. Mycroft's been the prodigal son and I've been the one kept upstairs at parties and not allowed out. Now _I'm _the one that made her happy. Please John." He pouted again.

"Damn you and that pout! Fine, but we can't keep this up forever. What would happen if the yard found out?"

"Hilarity would ensue with us being the butt of the joke?"

John sighed. "Probably. You know, it would probably be easier if we were a couple. Everyone else thinks we are."

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. Should he be happy that John felt this way? Should he tell him he felt the same?

"Sherlock? Sherlock it was a joke."

"What? Oh. Right. Yes. Haha."

"You looked like you were about to pass out. Should of taken a picture. You are funny sometimes." And so, shaking his head with his tea and book, he headed up the stairs. Leaving Sherlock feeling incredibly stupid.

**I wonder if John does dell the same way? you will just have to find out. I think we'll end up at Mummy's in the next couple of chapters. I'd love to know what you think he should wear to impress her.**


	12. Chapter 12

**been a while hasn't it? terribly sorry this took so long, but I've got a few chapters to come now.**

John walked into the morgue. Molly was there with her hands elbow deep in someone.

"Hey Molls." he called jovially from the door. In his hands he had two Starbucks coffees. Molly smiled over her shoulder at him. She supposed she still resented him a little for being in love with the man of her dreams but now she had experienced the brother. She figured it was a pretty fair deal. Besides, they always had coffee on a Friday and she could never stay angry at anyone for very long.

She washed her hands and headed to her adjoining office where John had gone. He was in the spare chair and her coffee and a muffin were waiting for her. She inwardly giggled. God, he was like a gay best friend. Only now there was no 'like' about it.

She sat down in her desk chair and took the muffin.

"So.." asked John, "How did it go?" he grinned devilishly at her.

"He took me to the Woolsey."

John sat back, "Is that the one that's like the Ritz only posher?"

"That's the one." Molly blushed at the memory.

John nodded in appreciation of the gesture. "So what's he like? Is he always this imposing ethereal presence with a smug face or is he actually a nice person?"

"He is the nicest person I've ever been on a date with. I'm not joking!" she said to John's doubting face, "He's so attentive and lovely. I suppose he's kind of like how Sherlock is with you."

"What do you mean?" John looked puzzled.

"Oh you know. You don't have to hide it from me. Sherlock told me yesterday. That you agreed to be his boyfriend. I'm not going to lie it nearly killed me to hear him say it, but looking back he seemed really like a man in love. You're very lucky. What?" Johns mouth was agape as he looked at her.

"We're not a couple." Molly smiled and was about to say something when he said, "No, really Molly, we're not. Mycroft got us into this mess. His mother thinks we are a couple and so we're going to dinner there but we aren't an actual couple. It's all a big misunderstanding really."

Now it was Molly's turn to look puzzled. "Why does Sherlock's mother think you're a couple?"

John waved his hands and shrugged, "Apparently he talks like we are."

"Oh." She looked down.

"What?" John eyed her suspiciously.

"Nothing! It's just that if a cold, calculating man like Sherlock is talking like you're a couple, he must think very highly of you."

"Well," John shrugged again, gulping his coffee, "we're best friends aren't we?"

"He hasn't had many friends. Maybe he's getting confused with friendship and... More." John gave her a dirty look then sighed. "I suppose you may have a point. I not going to lie Molly he's been daydreaming a lot lately. I caught him looking at my arse the other day."

"Really?" Molly's eyes went wide.

"Do you think maybe he wants to, experiment?"

"I don't know. You know him better than anyone. Do you want to experiment?"

John's defences went instantly up. "I don't know what your talking about.. I mean I've never... I'm NOT... " His shoulders slumped. "I don't know Molly. I just don't know."

Molly finished her coffee and looked up into his eyes properly. "I can't answer that for you John, but you two seem stupidly happy together." John smiled at her in resignation when her phone beeped.

Will have a car waiting for you at eight. MH

Molly smiled down at it and John chuckled. "I know that look. Where's he taking you?"

Molly looked up, "Don't know. Just says he'll have a car for me at eight."

"How exciting." John wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Molly giggled. "Better leave you to it then, got a hot date to prepare for."

He got up and kissed her on the cheek.

"Let me know how tomorrow goes okay?" Molly said as he pulled away.

"Will do. Have fun tonight." and he left leaving Molly grinning to herself.


	13. Chapter 13

Mycroft was as good as his word. The car was there at eight on the dot. Molly had finished her shift at four so had had plenty of time to get ready. She had a bath and then a panic attack over what to wear, making the bath completely pointless. She had no idea where she was going. Mycroft always dressed formally so she figured that would be the best bet. Only problem was she had virtually nothing formal. Just baggy jumpers and trousers. None of which fit very well. She eventually found a dress which she had bought for her leavers ball at school when she was eighteen with her mum. She had been forced to attend by everyone and had thoroughly hated it. But the dress had been rather expensive and had fit her well, if it had been a little big in the bust. Being the only daughter her mother relished buying her things. Molly was now rather glad that her mum had had the foresight to buy her something timeless. It was a smock dress with a little embellishment on it that accentuated her small curves but not to the point that she felt uncomfortable. What had her mother said? "It's the sort of dress that a woman wears Molly. You'd get any man you want in that." Molly shrugged at the memory. Despite her having twice the intelligence and capability of her brothers (both of which had left school at sixteen) her mother had always fretted about Molly not being married, and not having someone to provide for her. It was daft. She had a good wage and could look after herself perfectly well on her own, thank you very much.

She shrugged on the dress and was pleased that it still fit her. She filled it a little more on the hips and bust but that was no bad thing. She then turned to her make up. Again a thing she wasn't very good at and a thing that her mother found exasperating. She decided to go for the less is more approach, as she always had a tendency to trowel it on when nervous.

She left her flat with a small clutch that she never used and a shawl as the night could get a bit nippy. She locked the door as the chauffeur got out and opened the door for her. He was of Indian decent she noticed, completely different from yesterday's. She wondered how many drivers Mycroft had.

The door shut behind her and she found herself sitting next to the man in question.

"Hello." she said, suddenly shy. She was glad she had gone for formal, Mycroft was wearing a three piece.

"Hello." he said as he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, "You look stunning."

Molly blushed and looked down, "What? This old thing?"

He appraised her, "Hmmm, yes, your mother does have good taste."

Molly smiled at the unconcealed deduction. Somehow she was completely comfortable with it.

"Where are we going?"

"The Theatre." he said with relish

Molly beamed. "I love the theatre! What are we going to see?"

"I know." Mycroft said as he took her hand, "We are going to see A Midsummer Nights Dream."

Molly practically clapped like a little girl, "At the globe?! I've always wanted to go see a show at the globe! But wait, it's sold out isn't it?"

Mycroft smiled, "They always leave a few tickets for diplomats."

Molly hugged him. "Oh I love Shakespeare!"

"I know."

Molly shook her head and grinned. She was falling for this man. Falling hard.

"Have you eaten?"

"I had a quick snack just in case."

"Clever girl. I have reservations for afterwards."

Her eyes lit up again, "Ooh, where."

He leaned in close. "You'll just have to wait and see."

They pulled up to the globe and Mycroft helped her out like a gentleman. He led her to the door that said 'boxes' and up some stairs. An attendant was on hand by the door to their box. Above it was the word 'Holmes' carved into the wood. _Diplomats my arse_ she thought.

The attendant smiled and took their outer wear, bidding them a good evening and Mycroft led Molly through. She realised they were in the centre of the row, the stage directly below them. The best seats in the house. She saw people in the pits look up at the two of them in envy. She smiled. Oh if her mother could see her now.

Xxx

The show lived up to it's reviews and more. A Midsummer Nights Dream was kind of the obvious one but it was her favourite. Mycroft held her hand the whole way through and every time she glanced over to him she would find him already looking at her.

The attendant returned at the end with their things and wished them goodnight. Mycroft led her down the stairs to the waiting car. It drove off as soon as they were inside.

Molly leaned against Mycroft's shoulder as the car weaved it's way through the traffic.

"Mycroft?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm not very hungry you know."

He looked down at her. "Oh? Would you like me to take you home then?"

"No." was her simple reply, "I don't want the night to end. It's been far too lovely."

Mycroft dipped down to capture Molly's lips with his own. She stilled for a moment but then returned the gesture.

After a little while Mycroft pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers. "Would it be terribly forward of me to bring you to mine?"

Molly cupped his cheek in her hand, "Not at all."

He looked up to the driver, "Ranjeet, home."

"Going home." came the reply.

Xxx

Mycroft didn't have a flat. He had a bloody great townhouse. A bloody great townhouse spitting distance from the Royal Albert Hall. Molly gaped.

"This is my main abode." he said, in a bid to stop her mouth from hanging open too much. He failed.

"Your main abode?" she said dumfounded.

"Um, yes. I have a country house in Sussex and another one in Scotland. I don't use them much, only for entertaining foreign diplomats."

Molly sidled up to him, suddenly bold. "Maybe we could spend a weekend away?"

Mycroft wrapped his arms around her. "Maybe we could. Would you like a tour?"

She looked deeply into his eyes, "No." She smiled and kissed him again. Her hands going up into his hair as he dropped his ever present umbrella.

He chuckled and pulled away, "My, Dr. Hooper. I should of done this a long time ago."

She smiled devilishly at him and let him lead her up the stairs.

_Defiantly have a tour tomorrow though._ She thought.

**So what did you think of the date? Morning after should be up in a couple of days time...**


	14. Chapter 14

Molly awoke surrounded with luxury. The sheets were like heaven and the bed so soft it was like sleeping on air. The Egyptian cotton felt so smooth against her bare skin.

Bare skin?

She giggled, the memory of the night coming back to her. She sat up, pondering where the man was. Mycroft walked in from what looked like a huge wardrobe the size of Molly's bedroom, doing his shirt up, a tie draped round his shoulders.

"I didn't want to wake you." he went in for a kiss, taking a cheeky glance down at her nude form covered in the sheet. She blushed.

"I'm afraid I have to go to my mothers."

She looked at him sitting on the bed, "With Sherlock and John?" Molly frowned.

"Yes. It will be tedious and the boys will try to get back at me for talking with Mummy."

She smiled and reached to do up his tie, "I won't say you don't deserve it, but I suppose they did need a bit of nudging in the right direction."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, "Your not jealous?"

"Maybe a little bit. But not nearly as much as I would be if you hadn't started dating me." she looked at his face. It displayed no emotion but she knew deep down that he hated the fact she still had a crush on his brother.

"Hey," she said, cupping his chin with her hand, "I've never been so excited about a relationship than I am about with this one. And considering I've had a thing for Sherlock for, hmmm, three years, I think that after two days you've done very well curing me of him."

"Curing you. I didn't realise you were ill." he smirked.

"Neither was I." she said matter-of-factly. Molly smiled and leaned in to kiss him properly.

"Dr. Hooper, you will rumple my shirt!" he laughed against her mouth.

"Maybe I want to. When do you leave?"

Mycroft looked down at his watch. "Not for another hour and a half. I like to have I long morning."

"In that case I shall have a shower and have breakfast with you. If that alright."

"That's most desirable."

"I may take you up on that tour. Your shower is...?"

"The door next to the wardrobe."

Xxx

The shower was amazing, there were more shampoos and shower gels then a brach of Boots (naturally, she had to try them all out) and now she was sitting opposite Mycroft having breakfast in his lavish dining room. Her dress was a little crinkled but that didn't matter. She couldn't find her knickers.

Mycroft smiled at her, tucking into his bacon with vigour.

"I like a man that likes to eat." Molly said absentmindedly.

He chuckled, "I may have a high flying job but I _always_ make time for three square meals."

"Good. Lack of appetite is weird."

"I quite agree." he nodded.

"Maybe I could cook for you one day?"

"I'd like that." His smile got bigger.

Xxx

The tour included the kitchen (huge), the drawing room (massive), the spare bedrooms (five, each bigger than the next), his personal bathroom (she could lie down flat in it with room to spare), and finally the library. She gasped, looking at the tomes that sat on wall high shelves in a room that was not only the biggest floor space wise, but also twice as high as any other.

There was a fire place and a desk that looked out at London in all it's beautiful glory. _His empire_ she thought to herself.

"This is my favourite room."

"I know."

He looked down at her, "You do?"

"It's the only room in the house that's truly homey. It's got your stamp on it."

There was an armchair next to the fire for reading books. Just one. Molly considered that, even though it would be normal to have two chairs, he didn't because the extra chair would remind him that he was alone. This was his special room, the one he didn't show anyone, because it was part of him.

"We need to get another chair."

"We?"

Se nodded, "If I'm going to be spending more time here I have a sneaking suspicion that it will be in here. That's your chair. I need one."

Mycroft turned her so they were facing each other. He looked into her eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. He suddenly pulled her close and held her. Molly folded her arms round him to return the embrace. They stayed like that for some time. He then tilted her head up and kissed her.

"Thank you Molly." Their foreheads touched as he spoke. "Now, let's get you home."

Xxx

The car journey was spent in companionable silence. When they got to her flat Mycroft walked Molly to the door and kissed her on the step.

"Tell me how today goes." she said as she opened the door.

"Will do. See you tomorrow?"

"fraid not handsome, going to _my _mothers. Do you mind if I tell her?"

"Dr. Hopper, we have already considered buying chairs. I think we're getting quite serious don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

He grinned, "I like it."

She grinned back, "So do I."

**A few people have said that maybe Molly and Mycroft are going a bit fast and perhaps they are, but Mycroft seems like a very driven man and if he wants something he'll get it. Not sure if I'll write a chapter on Mummy Hooper. Your welocme to order me to if you wish.**


	15. Chapter 15

**I think it's high time we got to meet with Mummy. So here she is.**

"Slow down!" John panted in Sherlock's ear as he clutched the other mans waist in a death grip, "Your going to kill us!" All John could feel in response was Sherlocks throat vibrating as he chuckled. John knew it was a bad idea the minute Sherlock woke him by chucking a Kevlar jacket and trousers at him whilst the man himself was dressed top to toe in leather. And now they were winding their way through country lanes at a daft speed, the bike roaring beneath their thighs. Where Sherlock had been hiding this bike he did not know. John was wearing a rucksack with their clothes in for the stay at Mummy Holmes', probably sufficiently crumpled by now.

Sherlock leaned forward and John was forced to as well as the bike went even faster. Sherlock learnt pretty quickly that the faster he went, the more John held onto him. He wasn't entirely sure on a conscious level that he was doing it, or why. But it was marvellous. And besides, the man loved danger. It was the whole reason why he lived with Sherlock. The late spring sun being dappled through the trees was invigorating as he drove. Nothing could beat the country of his home in late spring, the whole place buzzing with potential energy. Although the leather was getting a little annoying. He forgot how much it chaffed. Damn the fact the kevlar was only in John's size.

They sped past the Kings Head, the pub Sherlock and the rest of the adolescent community of area inhabited before they turned eighteen. It was the only pub that would serve those underage for miles. There was always one in each parish. The police occasionally came to be break up fights, but they didn't really mind about the drinking. 'Better in a pub with adults to look after you than in a street corner', everyone said. Even the vicar.

Sherlock smiled and turned into a sweeping drive not too far past the Head. He could feel John relax as they slowed down but then tensed again as he saw the house emerge through the landscaped trees. The place was huge. Like Downton Abbey. Maybe bigger. Sherlock pulled up right in front of the front door and a butler came out. He bowed to Sherlock who had now gotten off the bike with complete grace and agility as John tried to do the same and fell off. Sherlock bent to help him up and smirked at him. _Surely that leather chaffes?_ John thought as the butler raised an eyebrow at him. Sherlock tossed him the keys and the man bowed again and started the bike, driving it off to what John presumed was a garage.

It was then that the door was thrown open and a woman stood there and opened her arms. "Sherly!" she cried at her youngest son. Sherlock hopped up the steps to the entrance and gave her a hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

"Hello Mummy." he smiled down at her with affection.

The older woman slapped Sherlock's arm jokingly. "Oh Sherly you haven't come down on that blasted bike have you? You know I don't like you going on it."

"Its the only mode of transport I have." he said defensively.

Mummy looked over to John standing awkwardly in a jacket and trousers that were _slightly _too big for him. "And you must be John!" she cried clapping her hands together. "Oh I'm so pleased to finally meet you! Sherly's told me so much about you!" she sweeped down the steps with enthusiastic grace and hugged him hard. They were the same height and even though she seemed a little frail the woman had a strong grip.

John looked at her. He could now see why Sherlock didn't want to disappoint her. She held such love in her eyes. But he was still going to make Sherlock as uncomfortable as humanly possible. He retracted himself from Mummy and walked up the stairs to his 'boyfriend', kissing him chastely on the lips. Sherlocks eyes widened at the gesture but if she noticed, Mummy had put it down Sherlock not liking to show affection in public. John turned back to Mummy and put his arm round Sherlocks waist casually. "it's so nice to meet you Mrs. Holmes but if you don't mind Sherls and I need to freshen up a bit. It's been a long ride."

"Oh if course!" Mummy cried, "And please, call me Victoria. That's my name. I've had your room made. Didn't see the point of having two, I'm sure you share at home."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Victoria" John said as he let Sherlock lead him in. When they were out of sight Sherlock rounded on him.

"What the hell was that about?"

"What?" John feigned ignorance.

"You know what. The...Lovey doveyness." Sherlock made a face.

"Come on Sherlock, she has to believe it." John said.

"Everyone thinks we're a couple anyway, you don't need to step it up!" he looked exasperated.

_Good. _John thought, _if I keep making him uncomfortable he wont ask me to do this again. _But that was not the reason Sherlock was freaking out. He was freaking out because he enjoyed the contact much more than he should.

**Sherlocks veiws on the country in spring are purely my own. It really is my favoraite time of year. And there really is a pub in every parish that serves underage. You just have to know where to find it. The veiw of 'better where we can see you' is a motto I've picked up from my family. The drinking age in Britain is 18**


	16. Chapter 16

Mycroft arrived about an hour and a half later. Victoria was worried until he did. It was so unlike him to be late. When he got out of his car and his driver headed towards the garage (he would be staying in the servants quarters) she rushed out to greet him like she did her youngest son. He hugged her tightly as always and smiled down at her as always and kissed her cheek as always and walked her up the stairs as always. Victoria smiled to herself.

"What is it Mummy?" Mycroft asked, wanting to be in on the joke.

"Nothing darling, I'm just so happy to see you." Mycroft didn't think it was a happy-to-see-you smile, he thought it was an I-know-something-you-think-I-don't-know-but-I-do smile. And he wanted to know too.

"Does Sherlock know?"

"Does Sherlock know what darling?" she feigned ignorance.

"Well that-" Mycroft cut himself off as they reached the day room to find John and Sherlock on the veranda which was just outside. Mycroft couldn't see why Mummy liked the day room so much. He was defiantly more of an indoors person and from April to September the large french doors of the day room were always open onto the veranda. It was like letting the outside in. Like the day room and the veranda were in fact the same room, and not completely different. Mummy loved the outdoors, as did Sherlock. Mycroft and his father preferred being indoors. They didn't like the chilling breeze that came in from outside in spring, though sometimes it was a blessing on those rare summer days that were so hot it was unbearable.

Sherlock sat in his normal jacket and shirt, John in a thin jumper. It was a nice day, but a couple of layers were still needed due to the shade the veranda cast and the breeze. They were sitting at the small round table, close together. Sherlock glared at his brother as they entered. It then quickly turned to an evil grin. Mycroft pulled out a chair for Mummy and he sat in the other available one, slightly unnerved by his brother.

"Don't smile like that Sherlock, it's quite unattractive." Mummy said as she poured some tea. Both boys sat up straighter and John snickered. He and Mycroft were looking at the food the table was creaking under with hunger in their eyes, but Mycroft didn't dare help himself without Mummy's permission and John was following his lead, so they just sat and waited. Sherlock, as always, couldn't care less about the food. He was far more interested in getting his own back on his brother.

Mummy was methodically pouring out tea from a large tea pot for all of them and adding milk and sugar when required. John found it a little disturbing that Victoria knew how he liked his tea as she handed it to him. She smiled knowingly at him and went to pouring her sons. John looked over at Sherlock suspiciously. _Why on earth is he talking to his mother about how I like my tea? _Sherlock just put up his hands in a _wasn't me_ style and John looked back to Victoria, who had moved on to making her eldest a cup. _Well. _John thought _what did I expect? She's the mother of Sherlock _and_ Mycroft Holmes. Of course she's brilliant. _

Victoria finished pouring herself a cup and added a dash of milk and one sugar. She then settled back in her chair with her cup and saucer and said, "Help yourself boys."

At the same time Mycroft and Sherlock, who were sitting opposite each other on the small garden table, launched themselves at the cake on the top of the stand. John grabbed his tea and leaned back, copying the position of Victoria opposite him. She chuckled after they both pulled back, Sherlock being the victor in the battle. Mycroft consoled himself with another one further down the stand.

"They always do this." she addressed John. "Ever since they were small. Mycroft always used to win, though not so much any more hmm darling?" She looked at Mycroft and stroked his head while he tucked into his cake.

"I gave up trying to get them to stop it years ago." she took a sip of her tea.

"So did I Victoria. Although I tend to find if you grab them by the ears they tend to stop." Sherlock glared at John, who just smiled and wiped cake of the younger mans face with his napkin. Sherlock gave him a withering look which John countered with a _lovey-dovey-remember? _face. Sherlock snorted and turned back to staring at his brother whilst leaning back in his chair. Victoria and John shared a look and helped themselves to cake.

Victoria asked polite questions to both her boys about how they were getting on but most of her interrogations were aimed at John. John did his best to seem 'in a relationship with the another man' by holding Sherlocks hand on the table and staring loveingly at the other man, much to Sherlock's discomfort.

When it looked like Sherlock was about to burst from discomfort he looked at Mummy with an evil glint and said, "You know Mummy, it really is unfair for _me _to get all the congratulations as _Mycroft _has found himself a _special friend_ to." Mycroft stilled and glared at his brother. _How did he know? How could he possibly of known? Because he's Sherlock Holmes that's how. _Mycroft looked at his mother, expecting her to jump up in excitement and demand details about Molly. _No! _he thought _this weekend was _supposed _to be about John and Sherlock! _

But Mummy did none of those things. Instead she just sipped her tea calmly and uttered "I know."

Sherlock gawped at Mycroft, who in turn gaped at Mummy.

She looked either side of her and tisked. "Really. Not only am I your mother but I am _your _mother. Did you think you got your deduction skills from your father?" She shook her head and took another sip.

"And before you say anything Sherlock yes I know they spent the night together last night." Sherlock looked indignantly at his mother for spoiling his fun and Mycroft looked like he wanted the world to swallow him up. John observed quietly. He knew better than to make a remark during a Holmes feud. But there was a better player this time. One who truly held all the cards. And that seemed to be Victoria. He smiled at the woman. _She probably knows we're not a couple, _he thought, _so why play along? What's her game here? _

He narrowed his eyes at her and she winked at him. Mummy turned to her oldest and said, "Is she nice?"

Mycroft blushed and looked at his cake, "Yes Mummy. Very nice."

"And she's had a crush on me for years!" Sherlock declared, painfully trying to tell his mother something she didn't already know.

She turned to her youngest son with an enduring look. "Well it's a good job Mycroft swept her off her feet. It's a miracle in itself that you managed to find yourself such an understanding a decent boyfriend Sherlock, your not an easy person to be with. Mycroft, on the other hand," she said, turning to him. "will look after her very well I think." and she petted his hand.

Sherlock glared at both of them. John tried and failed to suppress a giggle and the detectives eyes honed in on him. Mummy and Mycroft started to talk about Molly as the other two men just looked into each others eyes. John saw something there. Uncertainty? No, that couldn't be right. Sherlock was never uncertain, ever. But there it was, plain to see. What was he uncertain about John wondered? John leaned in towards Sherlock and saw panic fakes in his eyes. But he didn't pull back, and John kept leaning forward, the world outside the vortex of Sherlock's eyes forgotten as he pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock's lips. He closed his eyes. And so did Sherlock. Neither deepening the kiss nor moving away. Both just getting used to it, to the idea of it. John eventually pulled back and, noticing that Mycroft and Victoria were staring at them - he open mouthed, she with a small smile - he took Sherlock's hand and said, "There. Feel better now?" trying to play along. Sherlock nodded as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He long had they been like that, lips touching lips? It couldn't of been more than four or five seconds but to them it felt like eternity. It felt like the world had come crashing down around them and was now the same, but completely different.

They were both staring at each other for so long that neither of them noticed Mummy and Mycroft sharing a conspiratorial look.


	17. Chapter 17

That evening Sherlock went to bed early, leaving John, Mycroft and Mummy to talk in the drawing room after dinner. Mycroft and John talked together, John warning Mycroft against breaking Molly's heart and Mycroft saying the same concerning his brother. John blushed then and looked down. Mummy and Mycroft shared another look but this time John caught it. Mycroft saw John looking and quickly plastered on a smile, as did Victoria. It didn't make John feel any less uneasy.

Mummy walked over from the drinks cabinet, whisky for John and Mycroft, and bourbon for herself. She offered them both a cigar and John accepted.

"I haven't had a cigar since I was in the officers mess."

Victoria looked over, "My father was in the army. They're big on their cigars aren't they?"

John chuckled. "And booze, and food, and snuff. Weird stuff, snuff. I remember some nights when we were in the mess we had our dress uniform on, we would push the tables aside, take off our dress jackets and play rugby with a pineapple."

Mycroft laughed "Really?"

"Yes." John nodded, "And make human towers. We were all a bit rowdy after dinner. We would go into teams and you had to touch the ceiling. Easier said than done as the mess ceiling was about five men high. I always went on the top as I was the smallest."

"I didn't think they still did that." Victoria said. "I remember when I was little there was a mess chef that was brilliant, marvellous but couldn't read English. This was when we were posted in Singapore. Anyway, one day he comes out with these trifles -one each- but they had cherry tomatoes on them. So my father calls over and asks him what the hell he thought he was doing. The poor little man ran out to the kitchen and came back with a recipe card with a picture of a trifle on it. He pointed at it and said 'there sab'. My father looked at him and said, 'Thats not a tomato, that's a bloody cherry!'"

John laughed. "I'd heard that story, didn't think that had actually happened though."

Victoria leaned forward to light John's cigar. "What regiment were you in?" she asked.

"Gurkha." John said as he let the woody smoke out of his mouth. "Quite good actually. I was one of the tallest there. Little race the Nepalese."

"I'll quite agree there." Mycroft said as he sipped his whisky. "Do you know Andrew Mills?"

"Of course I know Mills. We shared a room in Sandhurst. Been mates since before then."

"Then you know he's the defence attacher for Nepal?"

John nodded, taking another toke, "He invited me out there when he was first posted. Should really take him up on his offer."

"You should it's a lovely country." Mycroft said.

Victoria leaned back on her chair. "So if you were in the Gurkahs you would of been posted to Hong Kong."

"No. I left Sandhurst just as we gave it back to the chinese. Went to the Falklands though."

"Is it nice there?" Victoria asked.

"It's very nice for about six weeks. After six months it gets a bit tiresome. There's only so many times you can make the penguins fall over before it gets old. Not much for a doctor to do there. Just cuts and bruises mainly, couple of serious accidents but not many."

"That must of been quite boring." Mycroft said pointedly.

John looked at him. "So was camp Bastian sometimes. War is an organised bore after all."

Victoria put her hand on John's knee. "I do hope you aren't bored by Sherlock. You've led such an interesting life."

John choked back on his whisky, "Oh no! No, Sherlock is many things but boring he is not. Speaking of which I should get up to bed." John chucked back the rest of his drink and offered the rest of his cigar to Mycroft, who took it graciously. It was only half way used. John forgot how long they lasted. He kissed Victoria on the cheek and headed up the stairs to Sherlock. Hoping beyond hope that the other man was asleep.

Xxx

Mycroft watched him go. When he was sure that John was out of hearing he turned to Mummy. "So, what do you think?"

Mummy swilled her bourbon, thinking. "He's a typical officer. Just like your grandfather. I can see why Sherlock likes him."

"And you realise why I had to get you involved?"

She took the cigar from her son and inhaled the smoke. "I realised I needed to be involved long before you asked me darling. I know Sherlock better than you think."

"Oh," he said, looking down. "of course you do Mummy. I apologise."

She patted his knee. "No need to, darling. It is nice to see you looking out for your brother."

"I want him to be happy Mummy."

"So do I darling." she looked out the door that John had walked through. "And I think Doctor Watson might just be the key to it."

**All the stories that john and Victoria tell in here are true, courtesy of my own father, who was also in the Gurkha's. Andrew Mills is a real person who may still be defence attacher for Nepal and was my fathers best man.**


	18. Chapter 18

Sherlock was in bed as he heard John come up the stairs. He knew it was John, his tread was heavier on one foot from the other and his mother and Mycroft wouldn't come this far up, both their bedrooms were on lower floors. Sherlock tried to spread out as much possible on the bed so John would sleep on the floor. He saw the light come on through cracked eyes and saw John's silhouette framed in the door.

"Nice try Sherlock. I know for a fact that when you're really asleep you curl up and make yourself as small as possible."

No luck then. But Sherlock was never one to back down. He rolled over a bit and mumbled, still spread out on most of the bed.

"Sherlock, stop it." John came over and smacked his bum to roll over, much like he does when he's drugged. Sherlock jerked away from the touch, glad the darkened room and pillows hid his blush.

"What d'you know, he is awake." John said sarcastically, a smile in his voice. He took off his shoes and changed into his pyjamas, then pulled the sheets back and got into bed next to Sherlock, facing away from him.

Sherlock had decided at a young age that he did not enjoy sharing his bed. He had been forced to share with his brother on family holidays. Naturally he didn't much like it then - especially with Mycroft's weight problem as a child - but with John it felt almost... right. Sherlock shimmied backwards so their backs were touching all the way and settled down to sleep. He was contemplating stealing the sheets as he did with Mycroft but then he thought that John might actually sleep on the floor, and part of him really repelled the thought. So instead he just pulled the sheets up to his neck and drifted off. John wondered why on earth Sherlock was so wriggly.

**I know its tiny and Im sorry.**


	19. Chapter 19

The next morning John woke up unable to move. He opened his eyes and looked down to see that in the night Sherlock had snaked his arm around John and was now holding him in a vice like grip. He'd been in situations where girlfriends had fallen asleep on his chest and given him a dead leg but he could normally wriggle free but each time he did now Sherlock just held on tighter, mumbling in John's ear as he slept. John decided that he should probably stop trying to get free for fear that Sherlock may kill him accidentally.

He supposed it wasn't that bad really, even if he couldn't breathe as much as he wanted. Sherlocks skin was soft against his neck and he had wrapped himself around John as they had slept. John felt, oddly enough, completely comfortable and safe. Safer than he'd ever felt in his adult life. John decided that he liked to feel safe, and if that meant being held by Sherlock then who cares. It would be his little secret. Sherlock smiled as John stopped moving, not quite awake but not quite unconscious of what he was doing either.

Xxxx

Sherlock had never slept so well in his life. They had laid like that for at least half an hour and by the time they went down to breakfast Sherlock - not known for enjoying mornings - was the definition of bright eyed and bushy tailed. Mycroft and Mummy shared a knowing look over their toast that neither men saw as they gathered their breakfast from the table. Johns hair was slightly ruffled as he hadn't brushed it and his chest was a little sore from Sherlock's death grip but Sherlock was turned out immaculately. Mycroft had a different suit on and Mummy was made up and ready for the day. John felt like he probably should of had a shower.

"So," Sherlock said, pointing a fork at Mycroft. "How's Molly?"

Mycroft looked unfazed as he moved on to some bacon, "She's very well thank you. She's going to her mothers today."

"And will she be informing her mother of your budding relationship?" Sherlock grinned as he tucked into some melon.

"We agreed that there would be no point in her hiding it."

Sherlocks head shot up. "Really?"

Mycroft looked across the table at his younger brother. "Why is that so surprising?"

"Well that's great Mycroft! Molly's mum's going to be ecstatic." John cut in.

Mycroft looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Her mum's.. Um... Lovely, she is but she's a bit... pushy when it comes to Molly."

"What John means, brother dear, is that Molly's mother is the manifestation of Mrs Bennett, using her daughter in order to gain social standing. Shame she doesn't have four daughters really."

"Darling don't be mean to your brother, I'm sure Mrs Hopper is delightful."

"No, actually, Sherlock's got it right there." John said, "But Molly's nothing like that, nothing at all!" he quickly cut in.

"I would think not." she said, "Mycroft would know if she was. Both of you would actually." she eyed both her sons as she talked. "and you would look out for your brother wouldn't you Sherlock? As he does for you."

Sherlock looked at his mother, fork halfway to his mouth. "Um... Yes Mummy of course."

"Good. Well then I should like to meet this beau of yours Mycroft. I hope you won't be as secretive as Sherlock."

"Of course not Mummy." he grinned smugly at his brother while he ate.

"Hmmm, yes. I should like to decide which colour hat to buy. You really can't do that until you've met the girl can you?"

Mycroft gagged and looked at his mother. Sherlock snorted. John looked confused.

"Hat?" John said.

"Mother of the groom John. She's planning the wedding."

"Come now mother." Mycroft said, shocked. "It's a bit early for that isn't it?"

"Of course not." Mummy stated. "I've already chosen one for Sherlock and John." This time it was Sherlock and Johns turn to gag and look at her.

"Oh yes. Sandy, to match John's hair." She grinned at him and John turned pale.

Breakfast continued in silence until John took his leave to have a shower. It was on the way up the stairs that John decided that Victoria Holmes loved making people feel uncomfortable, her sons specifically. He would love to see what happens when she meets Mrs. Hooper.

**'And what is Mrs Hooper like?' I hear you ask. Well, she's in the next chapter.**


	20. Chapter 20

Molly took a deep breath and walked up the small path to her childhood home. It was a detached place in Surrey, a post war building from the housing boost. It was nice enough. A front and back garden with a nice lawn and borders. The front room used to be dedicated to her father. A hospital bed was in it with all the equipment he needed. Her mother had stopped work to become a full time career. It was horrible to watch her fathers illness kill them both, her father physically, her mother emotionally. She had never had a good relationship with her mother, a daddy's girl through and through, and her mother thought she had turned her back on her family when Molly wouldn't stop her promising carer to look after him. She had never asked her brothers though. Just Molly. She'd never do that. Her brothers, a plumber and and a carpenter each, were always put on a pedestal and Molly, the more academically successful one, was hardly ever praised. Her brothers were praised for farting. She did love her mum. She just found it hard to get along with her. But she really should thank her about the advice on the dress.

She pressed the bell and her brother Tim opened the door. "Hey Molls." he said, giving her a hug. "You alright?"

"Yeah I'm good, how's life treating you?"

"Yeah, well..." he took her coat and hung it on a peg. "Julie's got the kids today, so it's just us grownups."

"Nice to have a break I guess." she said as they walked into the front room. There was no bed now, but sofas, and a telly, but there was still indents in the carpet where Dads bed had been. Molly had offered to replace it, but her mother refused.

"Well yeah, we thought that maybe you wouldn't want to see them because, you know, you don't have any of your own and your at "that age" so I thought you might get sad if you saw them." Tim smiled down at his little sister. Molly sighed. Tim-nice-but-dim, that's what they called him at school. And everywhere else really. She knew he meant well, and had probably heard Mum wailing about how Molly was at "that age" and she would never be fulfilled until she had had a small thing growing inside her et cetara, et cetara.

She gave him another hug. "That's sweet hon. But you don't need to hide them from me. For next time. It is nice to have my huggly bruggly to myself though."

Tim grinned.

Her mother walked into the room from the kitchen then. "Darling!" she said, holding out her arms like they do on period dramas. "Oh, you could of made an effort Molly, your brothers have." she looked down at her jeans, shirt and flats - not what you'd call scruffy - and then at Tim, who was still in his work boots. She did suppose that he was wearing clean jeans and a shirt, and for Tim that was an effort. There was no sign of Jack. Oh, no there he was, smushing her in his arms.

"You alright Molls?"

"I'm fine." she managed to choke out.

"Well, now everyone's here we can adjourn into the dining room." The front room doubled up as the dining room, but no one was about to burst Mums bubble.

Xxx

Say what you like about Jane Hooper, she's a brilliant cook. Molly loved her mums food and got her feeding nature from her. Her mother did have a habit of piling Tim and Jacks plates and giving her a lot less, and then giving her a look when she went for more. Especially pudding.

"Molly really." she said during the washing up as the boys were talking in the front room about shelves or something, "If you eat too much desert you'll never get in that lovely black dress." Her mother only called it desert because she thought that was what posh people called it. Molly had been around actual posh people, and they called it pudding.

"Actually," Molly said, drying a plate. "I wore it a couple of days ago."

"Oh really?" her mother said, "What was the occasion?"

"I had a date."

Her mother dropped the plate she was washing in the sink. "A date?"

"Yes Mum, a date."

"And, does he... you know... know, what you do?" she said as it as if Molly was secretly a dominatrix or something.

"Yes Mum, we met though work."

"And what does he do?"

"He works for the government." her mother raised an eyebrow. Molly leaned in. "Very high up. Like, can't-tell-me-what-he-does-because-it's-top-secret high up."

"Really?" her mothers eyes went wide, then she became reserved. "But your sure he's not, you know, lying to you? Saying he's bigger than he is to impress you?"

Molly put her hand on her mothers arm. She knew about Jim. When she found out she looked like she might murder him. At the end of the day her Mum wanted what was best for her, even if they had different ideas about what that was.

"No Mum, I know he isn't, I work with his brother as well. And Sherlock's a lot of things but he looks out for me."

Her Mum stopped. "Sherlock? Isn't that the one you really fancy? Oh don't look at me like that I'm your mother you cant hide anything from me."

Molly looked down, embarrassed. "Well, yeah, but he's gay anyway and it's not a rebound! It's not! Mycroft's really sweet and caring and we talked for hours on end and he's the man I always wanted Sherlock to be, you know?" she looked up at her cautiously.

"Come here." Her mum sighed as she gave her a hug. "Get some glasses this is at least a half bottle gossip. Let's sit down here and you can tell me all about him."

Xxx

Molly's mum was rather taken with Mycroft, despite the name, ("Really darling, Mycroft?"). She loved the fact that he was wealthy most of all and said often that it was High time Molly was treated properly, as she had terrible taste in boyfriends. She loved his houses and the places he'd taken her, ("Your going up in the world Molly dear.") and the fact that he had been completely absorbed in her that he hadn't noticed the time. While Molly didn't appreciate the undertones that she had found someone to look after and keep her she let her Mum have her fun. It was well past eight and the boys had already gone when they finally finished the bottle of wine. Molly was kissing her mum goodbye at the door when she spoke. "One last thing darling. How does he like his food?"

"He could compete with the boys."

"Oh he's wonderful!"

**Thoughts?**


End file.
